Ginger Tea and Strawberry Toast
by Pinky Jo Curlytail
Summary: There are lots of ways to say "I love you"


_Disclaimer: I'm just taking them out to get a little fresh air, Disney; I promise to bring them home safe._

* * *

Kim Stoppable sat in the teacher's lounge of Middleton High School, staring longingly at the coffee maker. She took a sip from the thermos of ginger tea Ron had brewed specially for her that morning and grimaced. This was going to take some getting used to.

"Good morning," Mr. Barkin said, settling his bulk into the chair across from her. "Feeling better, I take it?"

Kim nodded, praying that the tea would help keep things that way.

"Just one of those 24-hour bugs, huh?"

"Must have been," Kim replied, avoiding eye contact by taking another sip of her tea. She hated to lie, but she and Ron had agreed to keep this particular truth to themselves for just a little while. Actually, it had been her idea. Left to his own devices, Ron probably would have been out singing the news in the streets by now. Her lips curled up into a secret smile at that image.

Barkin continued, oblivious. "Well, sorry for insisting that you stay home, but you know, I'd rather have one teacher out sick than have something spread to the whole staff and lose everyone."

"Of course." Kim grinned. "How would you possibly cover _all_ of those classes?"

"Very funny, Possible," he growled back, but his smile made it clear that he appreciated the joke about his "permanent substitute" status.

Kim shook her head fondly at her old teacher turned colleague. "Mr. Barkin, it's been almost two years. Are you ever going to remember that it's _Stoppable_ now?"

"I've noticed your husband hasn't stopped calling you K_P,_" Barkin challenged.

"That's different."

"I suppose so," he conceded, taking a draught of his coffee. "Maybe it's just that the idea of two Stoppables scares me."

Kim laughed. "How are you going to feel about three then?"

The second the words had left her lips, she clapped a hand over her mouth as if hoping to force them back in before they could reach Barkin's ears. But, of course, it was too late. She could only watch in wide-eyed dread as the look of bewilderment on his face slowly transformed into a knowing grin.

"The flu, huh?" He raised an eyebrow. "Well, that explains why Stoppable was grinning like the cat that ate the canary when he dropped you off this morning."

"Mr. Barkin, please, you can't say anything," Kim pleaded. "We haven't even told our families yet. I just—"

"Say no more," Barkin interrupted, waving away her concern. "You're talking to a former Army man, remember? I can keep a secret."

Kim could only stare back at him doubtfully and take another sip of tea, trying her best to think happy hazelnut latte thoughts.

* * *

The rest of the day passed relatively uneventfully—or at least as uneventfully as a day usually passed for Kim. Ron liked to tease her that she'd decided to become a teacher just so she could stay involved in extracurriculars. Between classes, she was constantly being approached by students from seemingly every school group in existence, all seeking her advice or approval on one thing or another. The head of the Prom Committee needed to get her proposed music list approved. The president of the Environmental Action Club wanted her to announce that weekend's scheduled park cleanup to all of her classes. And the entire Chess Team mobbed her just before lunch wanting to know more about a rumor they'd heard about her husband setting chess pieces on fire (to make the game "more exciting") when he was a student. Remembering all too well that little escapade—and the fact that it had triggered the sprinkler system and resulted in the Great Cafeteria Flood of '05—she hastily pleaded the Fifth... then thought better of it and merely advised that they consider that chess was simply not meant to be "more exciting."

And then, of course, after school there was cheerleading to coach—a job that Mr. Barkin had been all too happy to hand over to her.

"Looking pretty good, ladies," she called out as the squad completed their newest routine for the tenth time that afternoon. "But those herkies are still a little sloppy. Let's try it again!"

The cheerleaders let out a collective groan, but they went obediently back into their starting formation. Their coach was tough, but she did get results.

Kim reached over to start the music again, but stopped when she heard the gym door swing open. She turned to watch Ron walk in. Seeing that her practice wasn't quite finished yet, he just offered a little smile and a wave and took a seat on the bleachers on the other end of the gym, near where Ian Thuse, the newest team mascot, was practicing his own routine.

Kim smiled and waved back, then turned her attention back to the girls, only to find them all out of formation again and exchanging little smirking glances with each other.

"Hey, Coach," said Mindy Lightful, "maybe we could get that herkie right if you show us how it's done."

"Yeah," another girl piped up from the back of the group, "and I bet Mr. Stoppable would like that." That elicited a round of giggles from the rest of the squad.

Kim crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at them. "Mr. Stoppable's not going to be the one judging at Regionals next week. And _I'm_ not going to be the one getting judged."

That earned her another chorus of groans. "Aw, come on, Coach."

Kim rolled her eyes and sighed, but... _Well, how much longer am I going to be able to do this, anyway?_

Without giving them any warning, she launched into the last few moves of the routine, instructing loudly as she approached the move in question. "Right leg kicks straight out into toe touch position, left leg to the side and back, facing down!" As soon as her description of the jump was finished, she performed it exactly as she'd said, complete with a perfect-10 landing.

The girls broke out into applause, and _someone_ on the other end of the gym whistled loudly. Kim did her best to remain stoic, but she couldn't contain a little satisfied smirk. _Yep, still got it—for now at least. _"Okay, okay," she said. "Are you guys ready to quit stalling and try it for yourselves now?"

Their enthusiasm renewed, the girls happily got back into formation and nodded their readiness.

After two more run-throughs, Kim finally decided they'd had enough for one day. "All right, good practice, ladies! Hit the showers."

"Thanks, Coach," a few of the girls murmured as they filed off happily toward the locker room. Kim smiled after them, and then turned her attention to the current and former Mad Dogs.

"Looking good, Ian," she said as she walked over toward them. "But you'd better call it a night, too. I happen to know you've got tests to study for in World History _and_ Geography."

"Okay, Mrs. Stoppable," the boy said, pulling the heavy Mad Dog head off and tucking it under his arm. "G'night." And with that, he shuffled off toward the boys' locker room, leaving just her and Ron.

"Two tests in one day?" Ron asked, standing up. He shook his head at her. "You're as bad as Barkin."

"I like to think I'm tough but fair," Kim said, smiling. "That reminds me, though. I need to go copy off those tests. Come with me?"

"Of course."

"So," Kim said, as they left the gym and headed down the hallway toward the teacher's lounge, "what do you think of our newest Mad Dog?"

"Oh, was I supposed to be watching him?" Ron asked. "I was kind of distracted by this hot redhead."

Kim rolled her eyes. "Okay, you get your 'flatter the wife' points for the day. Now, seriously...?"

"Not bad," Ron said. "Not bad at all. Kid's got some bon-diggity moves. But he's got a pretty big legacy to live up to."

"Yeah," Kim replied with a small smirk, "those Pep Puppies _were_ really something." He scowled at her until she bumped him with her shoulder. "Just kidding, Big Dog."

Ron brightened immediately, wrapping an arm around her waist. "So, good day?"

"Yep. No morning sickness whatsoever."

"What about afternoon sickness?"

Kim chuckled. "No afternoon sickness either. And the evening's looking pretty good so far."

"Booyah! Told ya that tea would work. Ginger—nature's nausea cure," he pronounced, always happy to show off his chefly knowledge. "That's how I finally conquered the spinny rides at the fair."

"And clowns everywhere rejoiced," Kim said with a laugh, but then her expression turned thoughtful. "So that's what that taste was."

Ron looked at her, puzzled. "What _what_ taste was?"

His wife's cheeks reddened slightly. "The kiss at the top of the ferris wheel, summer before our senior year of high school."

Ron raised an eyebrow, grinning. "You remember a kiss from seven years ago?"

Her blush deepened. "I _remember_ because it was… different."

Ron looked like he was about to say something else, but instead he leaned over and captured her lips in a quick kiss. He straightened back up with a contemplative look on his face. "Hmm… yep, different. Maybe even a little weird." They shared a smile, both already knowing what his next words would be. "But I like it."

"Well, good," Kim said, giving him another playful bump, "because as long as it keeps working, I'm all about the ginger."

"Then I'm all about the ginger, too," he said, leaning in for another kiss.

"Stoppables," a familiar booming voice interrupted them. Ron instantly froze in what Kim had come to think of as his "Barkin reflex." She could just about see the wheels in his head turning, trying to figure out whether he could still be punished for PDA even though school hadn't been in session for an hour—and he hadn't been a student for six years.

But as Ron pivoted to face his former teacher, Barkin just patted him warmly on the shoulder, smiled a very un-Barkin-like smile and wished them both "Good night" before continuing on his way down the hallway.

Ron stared after him, blinking. Kim, meanwhile, was resisting the urge to slap a hand to her forehead. Glancing nervously over at her husband, she could tell that the wheels in that big-eared, blond-haired head were turning in a whole new direction now—trying to churn out an explanation for Barkin's uncharacteristically friendly behavior.

"Come on, Ron," she said, grabbing his arm and dragging him toward the front doors. "Let's go home."

"What about your tests?"

"I'll just take care of it in the morning," she replied hastily, pulling him through the doors and toward the Sloth.

Once at the car, Ron climbed obediently into the driver's seat, but he said nothing as he started the ignition and maneuvered slowly out of the parking lot.

Kim watched him warily. "So, how was work?" she asked, hoping to get his mind on something else.

"Hmm? Oh, uh, good."

"Did you show the chef that new souffle recipe you've been working on?"

"Uh huh."

"And…?"

Ron turned to look at her and blinked a couple of times, as if he couldn't quite figure out what she was asking him. "Huh? Oh, um, he liked it."

Kim sighed. Yep, he was definitely distracted. Maybe some car karaoke would snap him out of it. She started to reach for the radio, hoping to luck out and find something by the Oh Boyz playing.

But before she could touch the dial, the car screeched to a sudden halt, catching her completely off guard. If not for Ron's hand shooting out to stop her, she would have slammed into the dashboard. So she was understandably tweaked when she looked up at him. "Ron! What in the world are you—?"

She stopped short when she saw his wide-eyed expression.

"You told Barkin?"

Kim considered denying it only for a moment. Her aversion to lying was near insurmountable when it came to Ron, and besides—

"You told _Barkin_." It wasn't a question this time. The jig was definitely up.

Kim slid down in her seat. "It was an accident."

"You _accidentally_ told Barkin?" Ron stared at her for a long moment—and then burst into laughter.

Kim frowned. "It's not _that_ funny, Ronald."

Her use of his full name did nothing to dampen Ron's mirth. "Oh, but it is," he sputtered out between guffaws. "It really, really is. Of all the people you could have let it slip to—not your mom or dad, not Monique, not Wade… Buh-buh-buh-Barkin!"

Kim just crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, waiting patiently until his laughter finally subsided several minutes later. "Finished?" she asked.

"Hmm, I think so, but let me check and make sure." Ron looked thoughtful for a moment, let out one last giggle, and then turned back to her. "Okay, I'm good. You know what this means, though."

"That you're never going to let me live this down?"

"Oh, that too." He grinned. "But more importantly, you owe me dinner."

It took Kim a moment to follow his line of thought. "Oh, Ron, I wasn't serious about that bet—"

Ron shook a finger at her. "What you mean is, you were only serious about it when you were certain _I_ was going to be the one to blab first and _you'd_ get a dinner to Chez Couteaux out of it," he said with a knowing smile. "Look at it this way—me winning is going to save us a lot of claude."

She started to open her mouth to respond when he slapped a hand over his eyes. "Ron, what are you doing?"

"PDPP," he said.

She needed only a couple of seconds to decipher. _We've both spent way too much time with Monique._ "Puppy Dog Pout Protection?"

"Yup."

"You know, Ron," she said in her most sultry tone, "I do have other methods of persuasion."

That got him to open a crack between two fingers so that he could peer out at her. "Can I have the persuasion _and_ the Bueno Nacho?"

Kim sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes, but she was smiling the whole while. "Fine, let's go."

The hand covering Ron's eyes rose into the air in a gesture of triumph. "Booyah!"

"Mind if we drive through, though?" Kim asked. "I'm kinda tired."

It was Ron's turn to sigh dramatically. "Oh, the compromises of marriage." Kim slapped him playfully on the shoulder as he started down the street again.

* * *

"Hola, welcome to Bueno Nacho," a familiar nasally voice came from the drive-thru speaker. "May I take your order?"

"You certainly may, Ned my good man," Ron replied.

"Ron! Long time no serve. Kim finally let you off your leash, huh?"

"Hello, Ned," Kim said.

"Oh, Kim!" the speaker squawked. "I, uh, didn't know you were—that is, I—"

Kim just rolled her eyes. "We'll take two grande-size Nacos and a side of nachos, with extra cheese, please and thank you."

"Uh, right, okay. Pull up to the window, uh, por favor."

Ron glanced nervously over at his wife as he drove slowly around the building. She was staring at him with arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

"What?" he asked defensively. "I didn't say it! Ned said it!"

"Uh huh," she said, trying hard to hide her smirk.

As they pulled up to the window, Ned greeted them with a pasted-on grin. "Hey guys," he said, his gaze flitting nervously between Kim and Ron. "How's it going?"

Kim smiled devilishly. "Oh, it's going fine, Ned. We're just on our way home for a little obedience training. Isn't that right, Big Dog?" she asked, ruffling Ron's hair.

Ron just grinned sheepishly up at Ned as he handed him ten dollars. "Woof?"

Ned chuckled uneasily and handed back a bag of food, mumbling the customary "Have a muy bueno day."

Though she had tried to curb the frequency of their visits to Bueno Nacho—for the sake of both of their health—the truth was that Kim was almost as fond of the fast food place as Ron was. After all, just like him she had spent a good portion of her teenage years sitting in their favorite booth, surrounded by the smells of greasy ground beef, refried beans and, of course, lots and lots of nacho cheese. So, as she accepted the bag from Ron, she opened it up and took a deep whiff, expecting to be hit with a familiar wave of nostalgia.

She was hit with a very _un_familiar wave of nausea instead.

Kim quickly closed the bag, and when that didn't seem enough to stop her stomach from lurching, she set it on the floor and rolled down the window.

Ron looked over at her as he pulled out of the parking lot and turned the car toward home. "Are you hot?" he asked. "I could turn on the A/C."

"No, that's okay," Kim said quickly. "I just wanted a little fresh air." She turned back toward the window and inhaled deeply. The smell of Bueno Nacho had dissipated, and with it her queasiness.

_Maybe it was just a fluke_, she thought hopefully.

* * *

"Hey, Rufus, we're home," Ron called out as he opened the front door. "And look what we got for dinner!"

The naked mole rat looked up from his spot in the middle of the couch and squeaked in surprise when he saw the greasy paper bag that his human was holding up. "Oh boy!" He scampered down from the couch and followed Ron into the kitchen. Neither of them seemed to notice that Kim was trailing reluctantly behind them.

By the time Kim entered the dining room, Rufus was already diving excitedly into his nachos, while Ron set out two paper plates. She approached her usual seat and Ron stepped up quickly and pulled the chair out for her. "Mademoiselle," he said in his bad French accent, bowing low. Kim rolled her eyes and smiled as she took her seat. "And for you tonight," Ron continued, digging in the paper bag and pulling out one wrapped-up Naco, "We have ze zignature creation of Chef Ronald—Le Naco!" He unwrapped the Naco with a flourish, and set it on the plate in front of her as if he was presenting her with a precious jewel.

Kim stared for a long moment at the greasy amalgam of tortilla, chips, cheese and beef... took a deep breath… and quickly leapt from her chair and sprinted toward the downstairs bathroom. She made it to the toilet just in time to lose her lunch—and her breakfast and, she was certain, every last drop of ginger tea.

By the time she was able to think about anything besides her rebelling stomach, Kim realized that Ron was kneeling beside her, one hand resting comfortingly on her back. She took a few deep breaths and turned her head to meet his concerned gaze. "Are you okay?" he asked.

She nodded wearily.

Ron rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "Guess my tea didn't work so good after all, huh?"

Kim sighed and shook her head. "I don't think it's that. It's… Ron, have you heard of pregnant women being set off by certain smells?"

It took only a second for a look of understanding to appear on his face. "The Bueno Nacho?" he asked.

She nodded again.

Ron nodded back, stood up, and walked out of the bathroom, calling back over his shoulder, "Be right back."

Kim just stared after him in confusion, not quite ready to leave her safe position on the cool tile floor of the bathroom. A few minutes later, just when she was about to call out to him and ask what he was doing, he reappeared and knelt back down beside her, saying nothing, as if he'd never left.

"Where'd you go?" Kim finally asked when it became apparent that no explanation was forthcoming.

Ron looked at her as if he thought it had been obvious. "To throw away the Bueno Nacho," he said. "In the trash outside. And I opened the kitchen window to air things out, but you still might want to avoid the kitchen for a while."

Kim blinked at him. "You threw it out? All of it?"

"Well, all except the nachos. Rufus downed those before I even had a chance."

Kim blinked again. _Ron threw away Nacos?_ Intellectually, she knew this should be no big deal—which was exactly the way Ron seemed to be treating it—but… this was _Ron._ And _Nacos_. Nacos that Ron loved and that she hardly ever let him eat any more and that he'd been so excited about just a few minutes ago, and…

"Ron, you didn't have to throw them away," she said. "You could have eaten them."

Now it was Ron's turn to blink at her. "Then what would _you_ eat?"

She stared back at him. There wasn't a hint of irony in his voice or expression. He was always at his sweetest when he wasn't even trying to be. It was one of so many things that she loved about him.

_I love him._

It wasn't a new thought by any means, but coupled with one that was—_and we're going to have a baby_—it sent a happy shiver down her spine.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked again, running a warm hand down her back.

Kim looked up at him with a reassuring smile. "Fine." She took his hand and let him pull her up to her feet.

She stood there for a moment, in the middle of their tiny bathroom, staring into her husband's warm brown eyes, and all she could think, (besides _I wonder if the baby will have his eyes_) was _I'd kiss you right now if it wouldn't be totally gorchy._

"So, KP," Ron said, breaking into her reverie, "what do you want for dinner? I'll make whatever you want."

Kim's mood fell at the very thought of food. "Oh, Ron, I'm really not hungry."

"You need to eat something, Kim," Ron said. His expression, half-affection, half-concern, hadn't changed, but there was a hint of sternness in his tone that she wasn't used to hearing—and that at one time might have rankled her. But somehow, right now, it only endeared him to her more.

She sighed in resignation and tried to think of something that sounded safe enough to stomach. "Maybe just some toast?"

"Toast coming right up!" Ron said. "We can eat in the living room. You go wait for me and I'll be out in a few." He spun on his heel and headed off toward the kitchen once more, looking far too enthusiastic about something as simple as toast.

Kim just shook her head fondly, brushed her teeth thoroughly, and walked out into the living room as instructed.

Rufus was back in his favorite spot on the couch, looking bloated and happy. Kim sat down on the cushion to his left. "Well, how was it?" she asked.

In response, the naked mole rat patted his distended belly contentedly and let out a loud belch. Kim rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help a smile. "What are we watching?" she asked, turning toward the TV.

Rufus pointed at the screen as the show returned from its commercial break. "Rufus show!" he squeaked.

"Rufus show?" Kim stared at the screen in confusion until the program title appeared: _Molerat Manor._ She laughed. "Ah, so it is." Rufus nodded back at her, apparently pleased that she agreed.

After about 10 minutes of _Molerat Manor_, Kim had concluded that Rufus's wild brethren were far more ugly and far less interesting than he was. Rufus was transfixed—which made her wonder if the molerats were saying something interesting in Molerat-ese (_maybe deep philosophical discussions or the latest sub-Saharan gossip?_) But she wondered how anyone had ever convinced a _human_ network exec to sign off on a show that could have been titled _Burrow, Eat, Sleep, Repeat_.

Just when she was starting to wonder what could possibly be taking Ron so long, the kitchen door swung open and he stepped through, carrying a huge tray filled with five tall stacks of bread and at least half a dozen little bowls. The toast towers swayed dangerously as Ron set the tray down on the coffee table. As he shooed Rufus off to the arm of the couch so that he could sit down, Kim just gaped quietly at the trayful of food. Only Ron could find a way to go overboard with toast.

"Okay," Ron said, rubbing his hands together before pointing at each stack of toast in turn. "We've got white, wheat, sourdough, rye and raisin bread. 'Well done' slices at the bottom." He pointed to the bottom of one of the stacks. "'Rare' at the top, and, of course, 'Medium' in the middle." Next he motioned to the bowls. "And for toppings, we've got butter, margarine, cream cheese, peanut butter, marmalade, apple butter, grape jelly and strawberry jam."

Kim just stared at him as he grabbed a slice from the middle of the sourdough stack, spread a liberal layer of the strawberry jam on it, and took a bite. And another. And another. All with the same gusto as if he was eating the world's tastiest Naco. It wasn't until he was about to toss the last bite of toast into his mouth that Ron finally seemed to notice her attention on him. "What?" he asked, spraying crumbs.

"Ron…" She shook her head. "_You_ don't have to have toast for dinner just because I am."

He stared back at her, bemused. "Why wouldn't I?" he asked.

Instead of answering, Kim leaned forward and captured his lips in a quick kiss. It tasted like strawberries.

As she sat back, Ron watched her with a lopsided grin. "What was that for?"

Kim simply smiled and shook her head again. "I just really love toast."

Ron's grin widened. "I really love toast, too."

**The End**

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_Author's Note: I owe a big "thank you" to Slipgate for offering advice and encouragement on this story (and on life in general, for that matter). If you're in the mood for something sweet and funny, be sure to check out his latest: "Twenty Years in Two Minutes."_


End file.
